Do not wither yet;
Still for you the sun shines,
Still the dews are wet:--
--Nay; but fade and wither last,
Fruit must come at last!

Joy, so true and tender,
Dare you not abide?
Will you spread your pinions,
Must you leave our side?
--Nay; an Angel's shining grace
Waits to fill your place!




VERSE: MY WILL


Since I have no lands or houses,
And no hoarded golden store,
What can I leave those who love me
When they see my face no more?
Do not smile; I am not jesting,
Though my words sound gay and light,
Listen to me, dearest Alice,
I will make my Will to-night.

First for Mabel--who will never
Let the dust of future years